A blessing in disguise
by Luscinnia
Summary: Roughly based on the happenings in our RP-group: Lestrade finds out that Molly Hooper is more than just "the plain Jane of St. Bart's" and that her current boyfriend is... evil.
1. 1: St Stephens Tavern

She left him a couple of weeks ago. As soon as this final decision had been made, things were cleared out rather fast. He moved into his own little flat. Divorce. Goodbye. Hello new old life.

Gregory Lestrade felt hurt… wounded but he knew that too much had happened between him and his now ex-wife and the injuries were too deep to ever heal again.

He was surprised how easy it was for him to get used to his "new" life as single. Probably it didn't make a huge impact, because the daily routine hardly changed.

On the contrary he was able to stay longer in his office without the knowledge, that a fight would wait for him at home and he would have been forced again to spend another night on the sofa, or even worse, in the bathtub.

And all this should change in this one night somewhere around the end of December.

Lestrade saw her before. Many times. He often needed to visit the morgue and most of the time it was her, Molly Hooper, who accompanied his colleagues and him. And like everyone else was he only able to notice but hardly ever able to really see her. Maybe, to his defence, one could blame his complicated marriage and his work for the lack of attention. Later he often wondered what may have happened if he had decided against the pint in St. Stephen's Tavern this one evening.

But he went there and sat down at a table in the corner. It had been a rough day and a short night and he could feel the exhaustion in his limbs. He watched the other guests: happy couples, buddies having a fun night out, some students and so on. The usual suspects.

Actually he was quite content to be on his own and not being made to ship in small talk or dull conversations about work or children.

Lestrade thought some recent events over, involving a certain Consulting Detective and his flatmate. He knew Sherlock Holmes for quite a while now. He had seen him in some of his darker moments. He came up with countless drugs busts and they almost always found something.

He rubbed his face when he thought about the fights and insults on both sides. None of them gave in easily and maybe that made their connection unique. But no matter how often Lestrade had to deal with an aggressive and rather moody Sherlock, he never lost his respect for this man and he never lost his faith.

Of course there were doubts, but Lestrade had always been sure, that Sherlock Holmes was more than a drug addict who read two books too much.

Over his musings he forgot his beer. He blinked and took a small sip when he heard his phone buzzing. A message. From Molly.

Lestrade frowned and replied. Short time later she joined him.

He felt strange. They talked before, of course, even about her latest boyfriend, but nevertheless was the impression that he actually didn't really know her at all very present.

She looked sad and tired and Lestrade felt his heart clench. Molly Hooper was unhappy.

Even he had noticed that she liked Sherlock a lot and he noticed as well, that this interest was more than one sided.

But he never made efforts to intervene. It was something Molly and Sherlock had to sort out. And then she got to know "Jim-from-IT". At first she had been over the moon and could call herself the luckiest girl in the world. Lestrade listened to her patiently. He tends to lose his temper sometimes but he had always been good at "listening". Molly told him how Jim changed and slowly started to show is "real face".

They finished two drinks each while they were talking, or better to say while Molly was talking and Lestrade listened.

He wasn't sure what he should think about it. The pattern was nothing unfamiliar. In his job he had to deal with the sad and most brutal finals of such relationships, once they escalated.

He did the only thing that seemed logic to him. He suggested that she should leave Jim, careful and charming to hide his worries.

She smiled but showed no further interest in following his advice.

They had their third or fourth round of drinks when she got a message from Jim. Lestrade felt uneasy. A feeling in his guts told him that Jim and the two or three pints he already consumed could possibly turn out as a fatal mixture.

Molly was rather tipsy as well and he couldn't help it but finding it incredibly cute.

Jim joined them an hour later and the atmosphere was immediately poisoned. Lestrade tried to stay calm, polite and neutral but it was quite a challenge. He needed to get sober again.


	2. 2: London Bridge

He is not able to remember the topics of their conversation. The whole situation was surreal. On one point Molly noticed the lack of a wedding ring when they started to discuss his private life and he found it better to mention a wife attached who would be mad when he wouldn't return home any time soon.

Lestrade wished Molly just had stayed silent. Jim glanced at him and they both knew that each side won a new enemy. He leaned closer and Lestrade could feel the barrel of a gun pressed against his body. A look in Jims eyes assured him of the fact, that this man was possible mad, but nevertheless was he cold hearted and if Lestrade stood in his way, Jim wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

A shot would have killed him in an instant. Probably. Right here and right now in a Pub full of innocent people. Even if not, there was no point in risking chaos and panic among all these people. Lestrade felt cold and calm. Some kind of program took over in his head. He went on and on to repeat all what they told him once about how one shall react in case of danger and being taken as a hostage.

Jim told him, who he was.

Who he really was. Not "Jim-from-IT", not this harmless man he played for so long. The man who treated Molly like a toy, the man who threatened him with a gun in this very moment was no one less than James Moriarty. The pain in the backside of Scotland Yard and a bunch of other institutions that had a keen interest on seeing him at least dead and gone. Not officially, but there were rumors and stories about crimes and a spider web that connected them all and one must had been blind for not connecting them with this name, that was whispered on the quiet.

Lestrade felt very sober again. His mind was running wild. Just don't provoke him, he told himself. Wait what he wants; let time work for your side. He exchanged glances with Molly. She seemed to be emotionless, but maybe that was to be blamed on the Gin Tonics she had.

Jim asked him very politely to follow him and Molly to the embankment. Of course Lestrade followed the order willingly. Nothing could be even worse now than a shooting scenario in the middle of the Pub.

He managed it to sneak his phone out of the pocket, when he got up and they left the place. Sherlock would probably mock about this later – if he was going to survive all this – but it was the last thing he cared about now. It was his only change to tell someone. Lestrade speed dialed Sherlock and prayed that the genius would answer the call. While he felt the gun pressed against his back, he yelled "Listen!", and hoped it would work. Moriarty was confused but did go on bragging and Lestrade could hardly believe his luck: this criminal mastermind told him aloud where they were going to.

Lestrade heard the little sound his phone always makes when a call is ended and he knew that his prayers apparently had been answered. Everything else was a matter of time now.

London Bridge came in sight and Lestrade felt another adrenaline rush running through his veins. Moriarty made him stop and turn around. He faced the muzzle of the gun and scowled. He tried to observe as many details as possible. Moriarty – cold and arrogant and still his "Jim-from-IT" clothes didn't want to complete the picture.

Molly rested her head on Moriarty's shoulder. Her expression empty, like she wasn't fully aware what was happening.

Moriarty ignored her and Lestrade wished she wouldn't be there at all.

A yell broke the dwelling silence between them. John.

From their very first meeting Lestrade liked the small and hard-bitten man. It was hardly to be overlooked that his influence on Sherlock made a deep impact. Sherlock was still an awful arrogant git, but Lestrade noticed a recent lack of insults concerning his own intellect. He was aware of the fact that Sherlock had an outstanding mind and everyone felt stupid as soon as he started to show off. Lestrade was also aware, that he may not be as clever, fast and smart as Sherlock, but he wasn't stupid either.

Things became tense and more chaotic. In order to get away from the spot, he found himself punching poor Molly at some point and seeking shelter behind a flower tub together with John, who got his gun ready and listened to the word fight Sherlock and Moriarty got themselves into. Lestrade couldn't keep his eyes away from Molly. He felt incredibly guilty. Never before did he punch a woman, not even his sister.

Small and vulnerable Molly. It was a quite fierce punch with his elbow. Instincts simply took over and he cursed the fact that he grew up with an older brother. Molly stumbled and fell and Lestrade couldn't help himself. He had to check if she was alright. He left John who focused on completely on the banter between Sherlock and his nemesis.

She was alright. Even alright enough for another betrayal. She called her boyfriend and the latter had obviously enough for tonight.

The first thing Lestrade noticed after the echo of the gunshot faded was his inability to stand any longer. Then it got warm, very warm and wet and the smell of blood was nearly breathtaking. His blood.

He collapsed and realised very slowly what had happen: The damn bastard shot him! As soon as it sank in he felt the pain in his leg and his hands started to tremble.

Johns face appeared and he said he was okay, although the trembling of his hands became even worse. The rest was blurry.

Even later when he woke up in the hospital bed he wasn't able to put the events together properly. Someone must have called an ambulance and Moriarty escaped – again – together with Molly.

She haunted Lestrades thoughts and none of these tricky crosswords was able to distract his mind from her image.


	3. 3: Mindmapping

He couldn't believe that he actually punched her.

The cut on her forehead looked rather nasty. One part of him wished her the most evil headache in her entire life. The bigger part wondered if she was alright and if they would meet again. The medication kept him dizzy and the painkillers made him so tired that he slept a lot.

Sherlock and John visited him, but he wasn't a very good dialogue partner and they soon left again. Probably because Sherlock got bored and restless.

One evening he just woke up from an unpleasant dream, when he saw her.

She came back and she visited him. She looked guilty and apologised a lot and Lestrade found himself observing her more thoroughly.

Molly was cute. He surprised himself with this thought. Their conversation was clumsy an awkward and she soon left again, when Sherlock and John came back. Lestrade could hear John insult her by calling her "only Moriarty's girlfriend" and that he was... never going to trust her again.

Lestrade felt hurt. He saw her when they discussed her relationship and he wasn't sure how much she still felt like his girlfriend.

After three days of bad food and a snoring roommate, Lestrade had enough and released himself from hospital. He didn't get along with the crutches they gave him. He knew it was better to use them and keep the leg still as long as the wound wasn't completely healed, but he abandoned the aluminium made things from hell very soon. Take away food and his sofa were still better than the hospital.

He didn't like to be forced to stay at home. He had too much time to think.

About his failed marriage, Sherlock, their past, Moriarty and... her. Always and again – her. Molly Hooper. He wondered again why he never paid more attention. Why he never realised before that she was such a nice and charming person. A deeper personality than one would have guessed by judging her only by her appearance and occasional clumsiness.

He just had something to eat from a Chinese take away and searched for his painkillers, when the doorbell rang. He opened the door and knew that something was going on in her mind. It was her. Of course. The woman that kept his mind busy since the night he got shot.

She was a bit out of it. Lestrade made her sit down and got her a glass of water. The painkillers he took before still worked and he was glad to be able to abandon the crutches and just limp a bit. Her hands were shaking and after a while she finally told him what was wrong.

James told her he would kill her. Lestrade felt worried and furious. To calm her down and keep his hands busy he gave her a glass of Whisky. This liquor was the only guilty pleasure he allowed himself. He had loved his motorbike, but he sold it several years ago, when he desperately needed some money. It was a sin, as well, to let the machine slowly rot in a garage.

Lestrade watched Molly draining the whole glass at once. He couldn't believe it and had to show her how a good Whisky should be enjoyed properly: slowly and with small sips.

Molly relaxed a bit ad they kept on talking for a couple of hours. The odd atmosphere from the beginning vanished. It got late and they both were rather tipsy. Lestrade underestimated the effect of painkillers together with alcohol.

The conversation trailed off after a while and he had put an arm around her without really noticing. Old tricks. The silence between them was not uncomfortable. They looked at each other and Molly crawled on his lap. He was surprised and wondered why his heart started beating so fast and why there was this feeling of excitement deep down in his guts. Some part of his mind was aware that this moment was a changing point. After this moment nothing was going to be the same again. And everything was going to be awfully complicated.

Molly observed him and Lestrade gained the impression that she did not simply look into his eyes. She looked into his soul. She searched for his true self and she looked into his heart with her wonderful and breathtaking brown eyes.

She touched his face with her fingertips. Lightly, nearly not meeting his skin with hers. He kept still and just looked at her. And for the first time he had the feeling to see her. Really and truly see her. Molly Hooper. Not James' girlfriend, not the clumsy plain Jane from the morgue. Just everything else that was the human being answering to this name.

He finally asked her whispering and nearly inaudible what she was doing. She took her time to answer and let her fingertips gently wander over his face. It seemed as if she wanted to every wrinkle, every inch of his skin. Her answer was just one whispered word: Mindmapping.

Lestrade was astonished and not sure if the feeling that ran along his spine and right into his stomach was an evidence of good timing.


End file.
